The End of All Things
by Pallan Minerva
Summary: A Mass Effect self-insert to end all Mass Effect self-inserts. This is gonna be grand, folks. You're not gonna believe the kind of adventures you, me, Shepard, and the rest of the Normandy crews are going to go on. This ain't for the faint-hearted. SI/Undetermined, FShepard/Liara.


Heart pounding.

Heart snapping.

Heart breaking.

He finds himself face down in an alleyway of cold metal, letting out a small 'oof' as he hits the ground. He can hear his heart in his ears, adrenaline still pumping in his veins after his brush with death.

It takes him a moment to recover and to get his bearings. He stands up and his eyes drag over the walls that appear to also be made out of a similar metal, before he finds the roof, and his pupils widen in recognition.

"No way..." He murmurs to himself. This is crazy. This is absolutely insane. He was supposed to end it, not end up in a video game!

He leaned against the wall and took a few minutes to deal with the shock. His heart hurt from beating so hard. He knew where he was, he just needed to know _when_ he was. That was the first step into making his way here.

He stepped out of the alleyway, subsequently covering his eyes due to the brightness of his surroundings. The Presidium was a spotless paradise that basked in the glory of the Council species. Of course, that didn't mean much to him as he knew it'd just get blown to pieces sometime in the future. Still, it was a good place to start from. If he had to start somewhere in the Mass Effect universe, he was very glad it wasn't Omega.

Multiple species passed him by as he stood at the entrance of the alleyway. He knew he had to approach someone to get directions, but he assumed that it would have to be a human as he had no omnitool or translator of any kind.

Before he could even muster the courage to approach anyone, he was himself approached by a darker-toned human, somewhat shorter than him, who began questioning him in a tongue he couldn't recognize. Crap, well, guess English isn't as common as he thought two-hundred-odd years into the future.

"Err..." He said in something barely louder than a mumble, "I don't understand you."

"Ah, English!" The man said, only the barest traces of an accent in the tongue. "Okay, this is fine. Are you okay, buddy? You look a little lost."

That was... suspiciously convenient. "I am, actually." He said, being careful not to seem too hesitant. "I just got here and I was wondering where I could get an omni-tool and a translator."

"Of course, of course!" The man smiled and put an arm around his shoulder. "I know a guy down in Tayseri Ward who can help you out. He can do it for cheap, too."

Crap, money. Maybe he could pawn off some of the things in his pockets. His hands went to them, finding his smartphone and leather wallet. Those should fetch some nice prices.

"Do you know of any pawn shop we could stop at along the way, too? I'm actually short on cash."

"Not a problem! I have just the place, it'll be on our way."

Hmm. Maybe this guy really was just trying to help him out. A little odd, as people weren't generally this kind to each other on the streets back home, but as the games had never given a clear picture into the street-life of the Citadel, perhaps this was normal?

He let himself be led into a fast-transit station, an aircar being called and swiftly moving them to their destination. The man wouldn't stop chattering the whole time. He was a bureaucrat at the human embassy who found himself aching to do a little more good, and so he found himself guiding new souls to the Citadel that were lost. That kindness led him to meet lots of interesting characters on the way, such as a disenfranchised Turian looking for a Quarian mate, an Elcor with a passion for the human opera, and even Blasto the famous Hanar Spectre!

He found himself smiling as the man told his story to this complete stranger. As they landed, he almost felt like they had been friends for years instead of less than an hour. They got out of the car, and he could instantly tell he was in a much different part of the citadel. It was still light outside, but the buildings weren't as shiny as in the Presidium. It wasn't so bad as to say they were run-down, but there was less care taken with the upkeep of the architecture in this area. He still felt fairly comfortable with his new friend, though.

"So where do you come from, buddy?" The man asked. He grimaced. He was hoping that this question wouldn't be asked, as he hadn't had the time to come up with a sufficient lie to explain his lack of tools to operate in this future world.

"I, uh..." Think, think, think! "It's a long story and I feel kind of uncomfortable talking about it."

"No problem, buddy." Thank heavens, that was a close one. "We're almost at that pawn shop I told you about." Good, now he could have a good foundation to start germinating the seeds of ideas he had floating in his head. Join Shepard...? Start a business...? Enlist...? Could be anything at this point.

"It's just down here." The man said, pointing down another dark alleyway. He didn't think much of it, he was considering what to do in the future once he had money and an omni-tool. This was most likely why he didn't see it coming.

A sharp pain exploded from his back and he attempted to scream, only to find his mouth being covered by the man he had been getting so friendly with. His heart was in his ears again as he was dragged down to the end of an alleyway and through a door that had opened suddenly.

He saw white for a moment as he was thrown onto the ground, then his vision began darkening and he could see his 'friend' in a conversation with a turian of dark plating and spiral markings. He was dying. Oh my god he was dying. He was about to die.

"Please no," he mumbled, "I don't want to die. I don't want to die. Imma, please help me. I don't want to die."

The human looked at him for a moment, then crouched down and removed the knife from his back, another sharp pain hitting him.

"If you didn't want to die, you shouldn't have come to this universe." The human said, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. "This is our turf."

The knife slashed across his throat, and he started choking on his own blood, desperately trying to get oxygen into his lungs but instead being flooded by his own internal liquids.

 _I don't want to die. I don't want to die._

 _Imma, I'm so sorry._

His heart beat.

Then it snapped.

Then it broke.

 **AN: Lemme know if you want me to continue!**


End file.
